by Jasmin Quinn
“Beatrix,” she corrected.
Hugo nodded. “Right.” It was a little awkward because Beth/Beatrix hovered, waiting for something. What? She could clearly see that he already had the most beautiful woman in the world sitting next to him eating soup. Did she think they were going to have a threesome? He thought back several months, his brain tapping at his memory. Yup. That’s exactly what she thought. “How’s Fiona?” he asked.
“Freya’s fine. Doesn’t work here anymore.”
Hugo nodded.
Olivia cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t mind another bowl of the soup.” Beth/Beatrix looked speculatively at her. She too was wondering how someone could eat that much chicken soup.
“Catching a cold?” Hugo asked after the waitress cleared the empty dishes.
Olivia shrugged. “No, just feel like chicken soup.”
Fresh bowl of soup in front of Olivia, fresh bottle of beer in front of him, he was ready to talk. “How d’ya know Jack?” Good question #1 he thought, watching her hand shake as she was raising the spoon to her mouth. She placed it carefully back in the bowl and dropped her hands to her lap, folding them together.
“Jack Creed wouldn’t like it if I discussed his business with you.”
He shrugged. “Well this was the shortest fucking conversation I’ve ever had.” He made a move to stand up and she stopped him with a hand to his forearm. She was going to have to quit touching him or he was going to bend her over the table and fuck her right here in front of Beth/Beatrix and everyone else.
“Please, you know I can’t talk to you about Jack.”
“I try not to tie myself down with friends, but I got a couple of guys here and there who I would go golfing with, you know what I mean?”
Olivia shook her head. “Is golf a euphemism for something?”
Hugo sighed and sipped at his beer. “Jack Creed’s one of them.” He turned to her as the waitress came by to pick up the empty bowl.
“Do you want another?” she asked. Olivia opened her mouth to say something but Hugo jumped in.
“No, she’s had enough fucking soup!” To Olivia he said, “How can you even eat that much?”
“Wow. Things not to say on a first date!”
“Wow. Things not to do on a first date. Eat five fucking bowls of chicken soup!”
“Four, it was just four!” Olivia crossed her arms in front of her chest but had the good grace to look embarrassed.
“Off you go, Beth.” Hugo waved his hand at her.
“It’s Beatrix.” Her voice floated back to him as she stomped away.
Hugo turned back to Olivia, pinning her with a glare. “My fucking point is I know a lot about Jack’s business and I don’t know about you. You’re too old to be his love-child, too blonde to be his girlfriend and too fucked up to be his accountant. So what are you to Jack Creed that he would pass my name along to you?”
Olivia hesitated. “I’m under his protection.”
“You’re not under his protection!” Hugo was losing patience with her. She was a shitty liar, and her last words had to sound feeble even to her ears.
“How do you know?”
He leaned into her, crowding her, forcing her to shift against the wall of the booth to avoid being pressed by him. “Because he’s a golfing buddy of mine.” Then his patience snapped. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and unlocked it. She grabbed his wrist, circled it with her slender fingers, pulling it away from the phone.
“Don’t,” she said. Her composure cracked and he saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. “Don’t call him.” Then she blinked, dropped his wrist and looked away, toward the other diners, trying unsuccessfully to slip her carefree, sexy mask back into place.
Hugo grimaced as he put his phone down. He should have had this conversation upstairs, not here. He thought it would be better on neutral territory, but she was afraid of Creed, which made Hugo afraid for her. He steeled his voice. “Start talking, Blondie. You aren’t going to drag me into a fucking thing until I have all the facts.”
Olivia turned towards Hugo and studied him. He wondered what she saw. Big guy, craggy features, three days of whiskers, in bad need of a haircut. She said a couple of words under her breath that he didn’t catch and then she nodded. Talking to herself again.
“I helped Jack out with a problem a while ago.” She paused, assessing him.
Did she think he might tell Jack she shared his private business? “Jack and I aren’t that good of friends that we trade confidences. If he has a question, he usually asks. I tell him how much for the answer. He gives me the cash, I give him the answer. It’s that simple. I’m not going to talk to him about your business.”
She gave a couple of small nods and took a sip of water. He thought he should order her a beer but then remembered that she was buying. Decided he shouldn’t run up the tab on her.
“He needed to get to a guy that he couldn’t, so he asked me to do it.” Olivia flicked her eyes to him, like she was looking for his approval.
Hugo cocked his head. “And did you?”
“Yeah, I got the guy out in the open so Jack and his brother could get at him.”
“Where’s he now? This guy?”
Olivia shrugged, the corners of her mouth tugging down. “I don’t know. He’s just gone. Dead I guess.”
Hugo sat back, playing with his bottle of beer, picking at the label. “That’s very generous of you, Olivia. Help the Creeds kill a man.”
Olivia nodded but didn’t respond.
“What’d they pay you for the help?”
He was being a prick. His phone was still on the table and he tapped at the black screen with his fingers. A warning to Olivia to keep dishing up the info or he’d go to the source.
“Uh… I had a debt to them. Jack wiped it.”
Hugo ran his tongue over his lower lip as he considered Olivia. She was a beauty, had it all going on. Could hold her own in a verbal sparring match, scrambly as a tiger. He wanted to fuck this woman, marry her, maybe even have one or two little mini-thems.
Except addiction... a fucking non-starter. “Got a gambling problem, Olivia?”
She looked at him, her eyes clear and piercing. “No, I don’t have a fucking gambling problem!” She wasn’t lying. Her voice was steely. She was offended by the question.
“Then what’d you owe him money for?”
“My mom… she gets in a little too deep. I have to help her out.”
The pieces clicked. “So mom racks up a debt at the tables in Creed’s casino. Creed comes to you and gets you to do a little job for him. You do the job, Creed wipes the slate clean.”
Olivia nodded. “Yeah.”
Hugo furrowed his brow. “Except, if you’re even, why’d Creed give up my name to you?”
Olivia sighed, ran her long fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face. “Because my mom’s back at the tables. Because my husband is supposed to be dead. Because the life insurance company is saying that he’s not dead and that I defrauded them. They want their money back.”
Hugo sat up straight and shivered at her. “Jesus Christ, you come with baggage, don’t you?”
Olivia flushed and it took Hugo back to the Mirage’s bar where he’d looked at her brazenly and she didn’t so much as blink an eye much less turn a little red. But this stuff, these problems she had, her confessions to him were embarrassing to her. She didn’t want to come with baggage.
“My husband supposedly died a little over two years ago. He was flying with his colleagues in a private plane, which crashed in the Ionian Sea. There were eight people on board. They were all declared dead. No bodies were recovered. Anthony had a good life insurance policy – well, good enough. $500,000 payout for accidental death. The insurance company wrote me a cheque and that was the end of it. Then my mom, who had been off the tables for a few years, relapsed.”
Olivia ran her hands over her face. Her mask was off completely. It was like she forgot he was there. He saw her anguish, pai
n, sorrow. He felt a tug by-pass his cock and go directly to his heart. Olivia couldn’t be more than 24 or 25 so that meant she’d been living with an addict probably most of her life.
“I was a mess after Anthony died…” Her voice cracked. “The marriage sucked.” She tossed a quick glance and grin Hugo’s way before returning her eyes to hands that were twisting her water glass. “It would have eventually ended in divorce. We were married maybe a little less than three years. Enough to know that we’d made a huge mistake but still too early to not believe we couldn’t salvage it.” She shrugged the thought off. “Anyway, it’s irrelevant. Tony died and I fell apart. And mom fell apart too, trying to help patch me up. So the insurance company paid me ½ a mil. Mom fell off the wagon, wracked up the debt. I used the money to pay the Creeds back. Got mom back on the wagon and thought all was good.”
“Until…”
“Until someone told the insurance company that Tony was still alive and they came knocking at my door. Except I wasn’t home at the time, but my mom was.” Olivia laughed, it was deep, throaty, a little bitter. Made him horny all over again. “She gets stressed when she can’t deal with things. Fell off the wagon again, got back in the hole with the Creeds, again. Now she owes them almost a ½ mil. And the insurance company is out to prove I defrauded them. They’re looking for Tony.”
“And you? Olivia. What good is finding your dead husband still alive? Won’t that just prove fraud in the case of his death.”
Olivia shook her head. “Not if he’s dead, Hugo. When I find him, I’m going to kill him. It’s nothing less than he deserves, walking out on me and letting me think he was dead.”
“So you’re asking me to be accessory to murder.”
Olivia flushed and tucked her head into her shoulders. “I didn’t think about it like that. Besides, I didn’t mean, like really kill him.”
Hugo grinned at her. “I’m just fucking with you. Let’s go.” He beckoned Beth/Beatrix over and she promptly brought the bill.
“Blondie’s buying.” Hugo flipped his thumb in Olivia’s direction.
Olivia took the bill and looked at it. “Can I charge this to my room?”
The waitress nodded and handed her off a pen. She scribbled quickly on the bill and tried to circumvent Hugo to hand it back, but she wasn’t fast enough. He plucked it from her hand and looked at it. He threw back his head and laughed. His room number, his name.
“Staying with me tonight, Olivia?” he said softly as he dismissively handed off the bill to the waitress.
Olivia shrugged and had the good grace to flush a little. “I can get a room. I just haven’t yet.”
“How much money you got?”
She shrugged again, looked away, gazing anywhere but him. “Used my last $200 getting into your room.”
Hugo sighed, eyes raking the beauty in front of him. He was going to regret the day she walked into his bar. He knew it. Because she was making him feel noble and noble was no fucking fun. “Let’s go upstairs. Finish this conversation.”
She looked at him, her blue eyes distrustful. He stared back at her boldly. Then he said, “You behave yourself, I’ll behave mine.
She gave a couple short nods. “Okay.”
Back in the room, he twisted the caps off a pair of beers and handed one to Olivia then seated himself across from her at the little table. Chairs were too small and uncomfortable. He hadn’t really used them much in the past, the bed was more to his liking. “The problem, Olivia, is that I’m actually on a job. And I gotta finish it.”
Olivia blew out a breath. “How long will that take you?”
Hugo cracked his neck as he took a swig of the beer. “It’s already taking longer than I thought it would. Having trouble getting to the guy.”
Olivia ran her finger up the side of her beer bottle, gathering the condensation, then took a small sip. Not meeting his eyes. “Maybe I can help.”
Hugo considered her across the table. She had dropped her defences sometime during dinner and didn’t put them back up. He liked this Olivia. The brash, bold Olivia spoke to his cock. This softer one whispered at his heart. She might be able to get at the fucker easier than him, but that would mean putting her in the line of fire. He wasn’t Jack Creed. The thought of her getting hurt gripped him in the gut. “No,” he said. Silence lingered as they drank their beer. Finally, Hugo said, “I’ll figure it out.
Olivia nodded. “I should go.” But she made no move to stand up.
“Where ya gonna go, Olivia?” Soft seductive voice. Enough to get her attention.
She looked towards the door, working the beer bottle between her fingers. Shrugged.
He got up, flipped open the top drawer of the dresser, rooted around, pulled out a T-shirt and sniffed it, then tossed it to Olivia.
“Put it on. Use the bed.”
She caught it. Nervously. “Where are you gonna sleep?”
“Maybe next to you. Maybe not. Going out.” He grabbed the room key and his phone and left before he changed his mind and mauled the woman holding his T-shirt.
CHAPTER 7
Olivia waited until the door latched behind Hugo, then launched herself out of the chair and into the bathroom. She knew she had a small window of time to take a long hot shower and she wasn’t going to waste it stewing about Hugo Marsden and where he might have gone or for what. She turned the water on in the shower and stripped quickly as it heated, then stepped under the stream and moaned her pleasure.
She hated Las Vegas, hated everything about it. Wanted to pack her mom up and move someplace where casinos were illegal, like Hawaii. She never stayed with her mom anymore, hardly saw her at all. Couldn’t. It was too hard. The only updates she ever had were through the Creeds. When Gwen racked up the debt, they’d come calling.
Gwen knew Olivia bailed her out, but was oblivious to the danger she put them both in. Or maybe she wasn’t, just couldn’t help herself. But this time felt like the last time. Jack told her it wasn’t personal, he was fond of her. Told her to let him handle her mother. Olivia had gotten furious with him. She was an emotional woman at the best of times and to have Jack talk about her mother like she was a dog that should be put down pushed her over the edge. She’d forgotten for just a minute how dangerous he was and shrieked at him, called him a heartless bastard.
They’d been in his office in his nightclub when that happened. Her tone pissed him off in a major way. He’d grabbed her by the throat, shoved her up against a wall, suggested he kill both Gwen and Olivia. Didn’t need the petty shit. She’d begged him then, to give her a little more time. What choice did she have? Jack Creed was not a nice guy – could be when he wanted to, but when he was pissed, it was important to find some common ground, fast. Olivia told him about Tony and his questionable status as a corpse. She just needed to find him but didn’t know where to start.
Jack made her sit in his office for hours. Came and went, ignoring her. Then finally, toward the end of the day he spoke, gave her two weeks to find her husband, get the money and pay him back. He gave her Hugo’s name, told her where she could find him. Told her he’d be the biggest fucker in the room. Jack wasn’t wrong. What he didn’t tell her, maybe couldn’t have known, was the effect Hugo would have on her.
She shampooed her long blonde hair as she thought about Hugo, worked it into a lather, it felt good on her head. Felt good being in this man’s hotel room. In his shower. She almost didn’t go over to him when she saw him in the bar, because he jolted her. Yep, it was all that. He was all that. She had to give herself a serious tongue lashing. She felt like if she ran up to him and threw herself into his arms it would have been like finally coming home. She didn’t, though. She knew how to exercise some restraint.
She ran a hand up her leg, it had been a while since she shaved. She popped out of the shower and picked up Hugo’s razor, popped back in. It didn’t look like he used it much anyway, she thought as she drew it up a soapy calf. He had some seriously sexy whiskers going on and she wondered
how they’d feel on her chin, on her belly, on her… mmm… everything. Now that she had a minute alone, a safe place to sleep and a belly full of the bottomless bowl of The Pantry’s chicken soup, she felt more centered, less rattled. Felt like she could take on the world and Hugo again.
She wondered where he went when he left. Wondered if he went out for the fuck she wouldn’t give him. She tried not to be angry, jealous, hurt that Hugo would go seek out another woman. After all, what was she to him but a broke woman with a suitcase of problems? She rinsed herself off, stood another minute under the hot soothing rain of the shower, and then stepped out.
She couldn’t pay him and he was clear he didn’t work for free, so she wondered why he was being this generous with her, letting her stay the night. Not asking for anything. Even the whole struggle on the bed thing was his way of proving a point to her. Giving her a hard time for being so loose with her tongue. That’s what she thought anyway. Didn’t know him well enough to be completely sure of anything about him.
She wrapped her hair in a towel and struggled to pull Hugo’s T-shirt over the towel. Finally, it popped down to her shoulders. She tugged it over her breasts and ass. It draped to mid-thigh, not too tight in the chest but still clung to her breasts. She lifted the hem of it and gave it a sniff. It smelled clean and she was almost disappointed. For a fleeting minute she wanted to be wrapped up in Hugo’s scent. It had been way too long… maybe that’s what she was feeling. Just a yearning, the missing of a man’s arms. There was always a ton of men offering her a soft spot to park her boots, but most weren’t interested in what was above her chest-line and those that were seemed too needy. Between Tony’s death and Gwen’s gambling problem, she couldn’t take on another emotional roller coaster. The one she was currently on was too out of control without adding a man to the mix. But Hugo was tempting. More tempting than any other man she’d ever met.
